


Obedience

by Savageseraph



Category: Eastern Promises (2007)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Exhibitionism, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Non-Consensual, Pain, Rough Sex, Russian Mafia, Spies & Secret Agents, Strip Tease, Voyeurism, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageseraph/pseuds/Savageseraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a difference between bending and obeying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obedience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wounded_melody](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=wounded_melody).



> Yuletide 2008 fic written for **wounded_melody**. Many thanks, as always, to **caras_galadhon**, bestest of betas, especially for her help with the ending of the fic.

Nikolai doesn't want to fuck the whore. It isn't because her skin isn't soft or her body ripe enough to tempt him. It isn't because he doesn't enjoy cupping full breasts, teasing nipples to hardness, or fingering her clit, brushes of his fingertips drawing shivers and moans. It isn't because he finds the long, slow slide into a woman eager to share his bed distasteful or unpleasant.

In his current guise, he might be a driver, a servant, but Nikolai doesn't like to take orders, to be forced. He never had, not even when obedience had been the wisest course, when it would have kept him from a beating, a knife fight, a gang rape that left him bloodied and bruised in a gutter when he was just shy of twenty. It might have kept him from having to kill a man. Several men. It might have kept him out of prison or gotten him out with fewer broken bones.

Looking around the room, Nikolai picks the girl who looked as unwilling as he was. He doesn't want someone coaxing and teasing and putting on a performance under him. When he points to her, her eyes, already dead, grow even more cold as she stands, moves to the bedroom. They both know he is going to hurt her. A man doesn't spend time warming up a whore, making sure she is ready for fucking. It is cold comfort to know someone else would be suffering with him for Kirill's pleasure.

###

Nikolai can be stubborn. Kirill knows this and wonders if he allows him too many liberties. He'd lash out at other men who were much less insolent than his driver, but then Nikolai is not like other men. Kirill knew this from the first time he saw Nikolai in a club he used to frequent. It wasn't one of those fancy places that drew artsy queers, but it was nice enough to draw a large crowd of attractive patrons. If Kirill's gaze happened to linger more on the men than the women, well, it wasn't like anyone noticed. Besides, people tended to give him and his entourage a wide berth. Sheep giving ground to the wolves in their fold.

All of them, except Nikolai. The guards who were never far from Kirill didn't seem to deter Nikolai from coming over, starting a conversation as if they were the only people sitting at the impressively large bar. He didn't have impeccable suits back then, only well-worn jeans and a cotton shirt, the soft fabric clinging to his lean, muscled frame. The combination of Nikolai's soft, husky voice, the body that his clothes did more to flaunt than conceal, and the tattoos that marked him as someone who could be of interest and use had Kirill offering him a job before the evening was over. On the drive home, Kirill closed his eyes, took deep breaths, and smiled as his cock hardened at the thought of Nikolai kneeling between his open legs swallowing him.

Kirill still wants that, even more than he did that first night. It isn't his fault that Nikolai's voice, the way he wets his lips, the slow constriction of his throat, head thrown back as he swallows a shot of vodka, teases him. Nikolai wouldn't look so good, smell so good, the heat and weight of his body against Kirill's when they've been drinking wouldn't feel so right, if Nikolai didn't want it too. And if Nikolai won't do anything about that, Kirill will. If Nikolai will not fuck him, then he will fuck for him. Whether he wants to or not.

###

When the whore goes to lie on her back, Nikolai shakes his head and says, "On your knees." She kneels on the bed, and he shoves her forward, pressing the side of her face against the mattress as his fingers tighten around the back of her neck. "Like that." She doesn't acknowledge his words, doesn't move at all as he flips her skirt up over her back. As Nikolai starts unbuttoning his shirt, it is Kirill he watches, not the whore spread and waiting for him. Kirill's gaze follows his hands as he undoes each button, bares new skin. He knows that he is doing the strip tease for Kirill that she should be doing for him, and he resents it.

Nikolai undoes his pants with a low, dark growl and strokes himself firmly, defiantly. His dick hardens in his hand, hardens as Kirill watches, licking his lips. If he dared, Nikolai would ask if he wanted to help, to lend a hand or a mouth, but he doesn't. He also doesn't move closer so Kirill can get a better look, his hand moving more and more quickly until he spills all over Kirill's fine silk shirt. Instead, he puts a steadying hand on the whore's hip and thrusts firmly into her. She doesn't make a sound even though she's too tight and too dry for it to be comfortable for either of them.

His thrusts are harder than he would have liked, hard enough to jar her body each time he drives into her. He fucks her the way he imagines Kirill would like to be fucked--_mercilessly_\--and when he hears a soft groan from the other man, he grips her hips and pulls her back hard into his thrusts. She doesn't make a sound, not even then, but Kirill does. The sound is low, soft and needy, and Nikolai can see Kirill's erection straining against the confinement of his black jeans, see his fingers stroke along his fly. He wants to ask Kirill if he likes what he sees, if he wants Nikolai to cry out his name when he comes. But he wants to live more, so he says nothing. He locks his gaze with Kirill's as his hips jerk and his lips part around a ragged sigh when he comes.

###

Before Nikolai even frees his cock from his pants, Kirill is hard, more devastatingly and achingly hard than he has ever been in the whorehouse. He swallows as Nikolai strokes himself, imagining the musky taste and warm weight of his cock as Nikolai slides it into his mouth. His fingers curl into tight firsts as he catches himself reaching for his own fly, thinking about stroking himself as he watches. The whores already talk too much. They already think he is some weak fucking queer, and he wouldn't give them anything they can use against him with his father.

The whore closes her eyes tight when Nikolai thrusts into her, a small gift that allows Kirill to watch without worrying about her seeing too much. If it isn't the swing of her breasts, the curves of ass and belly and hips that make him lick his lips, she would never know. His gaze runs down Nikolai's body, settles on his cock as it disappears into the whore over and over again. His own legs part involuntarily, back arching as he imagines taking Nikolai's thrusts, of coaxing the other man to come inside him. Kirill shivers. Later tonight, when Nikolai is pouring him into his bed, maybe he'd order him to do just that. A good servant is supposed to see to his master's needs.

Kirill's eyes widen as Nikolai meets his gaze. He isn't sure if he should look away or not, only that he can't. Because he can't, he sees the moment Nikolai's body tightens, the moment when he comes. His own cock twitches in his pants as he fights not to do the same. Not now. Not here. There would be time later, when they are alone and he is buried balls-deep in Nikolai's heat. He could let himself come then. He _would_ come then. And he would order his Kolya to come then too.


End file.
